


Detcord

by akire_yta



Series: the drawer sessions [16]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: F/M, oceans's 11!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 16:55:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12686235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: kayo/virgil ocean's 11-style AU (snippet)





	Detcord

Virgil smells of detcord and smoke as she buries her face in the junction where neck meets shoulders.  She lets herself wrap around him, snuffing up the scent like perfume, trusting him to hoist her up on the hood of one of her bigger babies.

She knows she smells of gas and burned rubber, but from the way Virgil was almost licking his way down her throat, she suspected he didn’t care.  “God, yes,” he rumbled as she bit down on the meat of his shoulder, feeling the layers of muscle and raw masculinity barely covered by the thin cotton tshirt.

They didn’t have long; Scott would be back soon, wanting plans and timetables and shopping lists as they geared up to take the Hood for every last dime in his vaults.

But they had time enough for this.  She tightened her legs around him, laying back on the still-warm metal hood of her big baby.  Virgil planted a hand by her head to steady himself as he leaned in for what always felt like the first of a thousand kisses.

Later, she’ll have to buff the evidence off the paintwork.  But for now, she knows her cars, knows the suspension can handle it as he roughly tugs her jeans down just far enough to slip a finger past the zip and give her what she needs.  She lets herself slither down the slope of the hood, still thrumming with aftershocks, to drop to her knees to swallow him down in return.

There’ll be new grease stains on the knees of her jeans later.  No-one will even notice enough to comment.

But Virgil will sit against the benches at the back, listen to his brother lay out the plan like the writ of an angry and devious god, and if anyone notices his smile, they’ll chalk it up to Virgil’s passion for the smell of detcord in the air.

She’ll notice his smile.  His eyes will flicker below her beltline.

The best heists are always the ones you carry out under everyone’s noses, after all.


End file.
